All's Well That Ends Well
by Demosthenes23
Summary: Because I can't wait till March 3rd, here's my version of 714. So only read if you are completely up to date...and don't mind possible spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

Murdoch was in his office, absentmindedly fiddling with his bicycle gears. There was a knock at the door and he lazily glanced up. Brackenreid was standing there with a big grin on his face holding up a bottle of champagne.

"Well, Murdoch?"

"She said no," he calmly informed.

If Brackenreid had been struck by lightning, he would have looked no different. The inspector dropped his arms like sacks of potatoes, as if he had no strength left in them.

There was an awkward pause.

"Bloody hell, I never would have thought...I was so sure...did she say why?"

Murdoch simply shook his head once, staring blindly at the nearest bike tire.

The inspector moved swiftly towards him, putting the bottle down on the worktable. His boss placed a hand to his shoulder and Murdoch continued to avoid his glance.

"Whatever you need, me old mucker, I'm here for you."

"That's kind of you to say, sir."

Silence except for the background chatter.

"Say Murdoch," Brackenreid said in an attempt at his usual jovial voice, "why don't you take the rest of the day off?"

"Sir, I couldn't possibly-"

"Nonsense, Murdoch!" the inspector said slapping him on the back. "We can hold down the fort for one day!"

"Sir-"

"I _insist._ Take this time to sort yourself out."

"All right, sir. I will."

Murdoch slowly retrieved his hat and ambled out into the main room.

"Is there a case, sir?" asked Henry confusedly.

"No, Henry."

"Then where are you going? It's not yet ten!"

"Never mind that, Higgins!" boomed the inspector from behind. "Now get back to work you Nosey Nelly!"

* * *

When Murdoch didn't show up for work the next day, Brackenreid began to get anxious but let the matter lie for the time being. However, he did decide to pay Murdoch a visit later that evening to see how he was faring. He was afraid if he didn't intervene now, Murdoch would become an unbearable sad sap again. And all because of the same woman! What was Dr. Ogden's problem anyway? Was it her life's mission to toy with the detective's emotions? Why couldn't she ever commit to anyone? Hell, she couldn't even stick to one goddamn profession!

_Hussy,_ he thought rather uncharitably.

Since Crabtree had been worried too, he had also come along. Brackenreid didn't have the heart to tell the lad to get lost, not when he had been out of spirits too.

_Women are nuts!_

"I'm glad you've come," said Mrs. Kitchen, anxiously wringing her hands. "He's been locked up in there for days and refuses to eat anything!"

Under normal circumstances this would have made him chuckle; it was a well known fact that Murdoch's land lady was a notoriously atrocious cook. As it was, his insides clenched tightly.

Brackenreid had to knock several times before there was a response. As the door opened, there was the unmistakeable stench of an unwashed body and booze. It was no wonder. Murdoch was in complete shambles. His hair was very unkempt and sticking up every which way, his eyes were bloodshot and unfocused, stubble clung to his jaw, and he was wearing next to nothing, just a pair of trousers and a white shirt, the last of which was very dirty looking with various dark stains in various locations. Murdoch swayed where he stood and didn't say anything.

_Bloody hell_! groaned the inspector internally, _it's worse than I thought!_

Crabtree was just behind him but Brackenreid could feel the young mans disbelief as keenly as if he could see it.

"Sir," said the lad uncertainly, "are you all right?"

Murdoch's eyes flickered to the other mans face.

"Murdoch," said Brackenreid with a hand on his shoulder, "you're a mess. Let's get you cleaned up."

* * *

It took several dunks of the detective's head into cold water before he finally reacted.

"Enough!" Murdoch grunted, struggling to get away from Brackenreid's grip. "Let go of me!"

Brackenreid did as he bade and Murdoch glowered at him while his sopping wet hair dripped everywhere.

"You didn't have to do that!" Murdoch snapped, very agitated. "What are you doing here anyway? I thought you gave me the day off?"

Brackenreid and Crabtree shared a look.

"That was two days ago, mate."

Murdoch looked appalled. "Regardless," he said stubbornly, "what do you want?"

"Well, we had come to take you out for some diversion," said the constable- who the inspector just realized was drinking from Murdoch's alcohol supply, consequently whipping it out of his hand- "but well, I don't suppose you are really up for that."

There was silence for a moment. "On the contrary, George. I'm tired of being cooped up in here. Let's go!" he said grabbing his hat. "Right now!"

"Uh, sir, don't you think you should get dressed first? What would Mrs. Kitchen think?"

"What the devil do I care?" Crabtree just stared at him until he sighed. "Yes, I suppose you are right."

The two men left the small apartment and waited patiently for twenty minutes while Murdoch got ready. When he next presented himself, it was as if he had undergone a complete transformation. Every trace of his former wretchedness had been erased, all save for the blood shot eyes.

"Where are we going?" asked Murdoch as they descended the stairs.

"To get you something to eat," said Brackenreid.

"And after?"

Crabtree butted in and the inspector restrained himself from throttling the lad. "And then we thought maybe you'd enjoy a nice bicycle ride to the museum. Apparently they've got a new dinosaur on display!"

"Ah yes, I believe it was the _Barosaurus_!" he said with a glint in his eye. "This particular specimen is supposed to be quite massive."

"Larger than a T-Rex?"

"Oh, indeed, George! Much larger! You see..."

And then Murdoch proceeded to spout off about the _Barosaurus_ for what seemed like an eternity. Brackenreid bore the mind numbing details as best he could. He was just glad his friend appeared to be enjoying himself. That had been his only goal tonight.

He smiled in self satisfaction.

* * *

The women were teasing the bride to be, again. They had been doing so the entire journey through the forest. Their jolly moods were beginning to get on her nerves.

What was she doing here? This was the last place she wanted to be right now!

Julia glanced sideways at Emily in annoyance. How was it her friend was always able to make her do things she didn't want to do? Such manipulations were insufferably similar to her own sisters.

"Don't give me that look, Julia," said Emily. "This is for your own good. You were wallowing."

"I was _not_ wallowing."

Emily didn't need to say anything to retort. They both knew she was just being overly head strong to avoid appearing weak.

They walked in silence for a time until the cabin came into view. The closer they got, the more apparent it was that it had seen better days. The lake was quite placid and consequently beautiful and Julia thought the difference quite striking, and welcome.

"Ooh, how revolting!" chirped Felicity, in equal parts fascination and disgust, as if she had just come across a dead body.

"It's not _that _bad," said Emma, the bride. "I think it rather charming."

"Who's idea was it to come all the way out here again?" asked Patricia a bit nervously.

"Mine," replied Betty. "My cousin told me this cabin was haunted."

"Well, why on earth would we want to stay in a haunted house?" sputtered Patricia, even more uneasy, eyes fixated on the encroaching darkness. "What kind of bachelorette party is that?"

"The fun kind," said Emma, grinning from ear to ear.

Emily smirked at Julia and she felt compelled to return the gesture.

* * *

Once they were all settled, Emily immediately retrieved the glasses and began pouring a bit of champagne for everyone. Julia couldn't help but notice the bottle of absinthe in the alcohol bin. She bit her lip as certain unwelcome thoughts came back to her. However, when her friend held out the glass to her, all trace of her agitation was gone and she forced herself to smile.

Emily raised a glass and said, "To all the happy bachelorettes."

"Hear, hear!" they exclaimed as they began clinking glasses.

"May you strive to be as happy after you are married to your oppressive and vulgar husband," said Betty in her droll way, as she tapped her glass to Emma's.

This elicited a few chuckles.

Julia took a sip and then another. Before long the whole glass was empty but it didn't seem to effect her at all. She had a feeling she was going to need a lot more libation to get her through the night.

"Oh see here," said Felicity in her happy manner, "Julia's gone and finished already! What a thirsty girl! At this rate she will drink us dry within the hour!"

The other ladies laughed, all except for Emily. She gave Julia an apologetic look.

Yes, a great deal of alcohol would be needed.

* * *

After they were all a bit tipsy, Julia more so than the others, someone suddenly decided it would be a good idea to go exploring the surrounding woods.

"But it's pitch black out there!" exclaimed Patricia. "How do you expect to see?"

"With this silly!" said Emma gayly, swinging a lantern in front of her face. "Come on then!"

The four ladies skipped off into the forest, arm in arm, singing boisterously. Emily and Julia remained behind, just outside the cabin, admiring the moonlight across the lake.

"You can still catch up to them," said Julia.

"I'm perfectly contented here."

"Really, Emily," said Julia with a sigh, "you don't need to watch over me."

"Actually, I think I do. You had quite a lot to drink."

It wasn't an accusation in any way, just a fact.

Some time passed in silence, with the exception of an owl or two.

"So Julia," said Emily slowly, "you still haven't told me what happened."

"There's nothing to tell," she said shortly.

"Surely you can't be serious? The man you almost died for- _twice_- finally proposes and you refuse him? Clearly there is more to this matter than meets the eye. Even a simpleton can see that."

Julia didn't respond.

"What did he do?"

No response.

"He must have done something terrible," Emily continued, "for you to rebuke him in such a way."

Another silence.

"Did you catch him with another woman?"

What she wanted to say was, 'What an absurd notion, Emily! William would never betray me that way! Now stop asking questions! I thought you brought me here to relax?'

What she actually said was, "Yes."

She hated lying to her friend but it was the only way to put an end to the matter.

Emily gaped at her and was about to respond when a blood curdling scream wrenched her heart.

* * *

**It'll get happier...eventually. I promise. :)**


	2. Chapter 2

"Come on Emily!" exclaimed Julia after grabbing a lantern and lifting her skirts for greater freedom of movement. "We must investigate!"

Emily nodded at her and they ran towards the direction of the scream, or at least the direction they thought it had come from. They called out to the girls to gain their bearings, hopeful someone would respond. Almost immediately someone did, due east of their current position. Even so they had trouble locating them. It was rather disorienting in this unvarying forest in the middle of the night when they were panicked. As a consequence they tripped a few times in their mad dash to find the girls, and Julia even managed to rip her dress a bit on some nettles.

Eventually they came upon the four ladies. They all appeared fine except for Patricia. She was lying on the ground, motionless.

_Oh dear God!_

"Is she-"

"She's fine," said Emma shakily, "she's just fainted...and we don't have any smelling salts on us."

"Oh it's so horrible!" said Felicity, pointing to a hill top a little ways from where they were congregated. "So, so horrible!"

Emily and Julia advanced towards the edge of the hill. Julia held the lantern aloft and peered down a short, yet very steep, shrub filled descent. There was no mistaking the sight of the decomposing body at the bottom. It had been half eaten by animals and was rather grotesque. Julia could well understand someone fainting at the sight of it.

_Oh for heavens sakes!  
_

Grumbling to herself, she prepared to head down there.

"What are you doing, Julia?" said Emily, with a hand to her forearm.

"What does it look like?"

"You are far too drunk to make that descent without hurting yourself."

"Yes," said Betty, "for all we know, that is exactly what happened to that poor devil."

"It would be best to wait till morning," agreed Emma.

"Oh all right," Julia muttered.

They waited for Patricia to regain consciousness and then two of the girls helped support her back to the cabin. Before they left, Julia had made sure to mark the route with large stones so that she could find the corpse again, come morning. Or sooner...she would try the phone and see if it might possibly work.

* * *

Murdoch admired the _Barosaurus_ for several minutes before he noticed someone approaching him from the side.

"Detective," said Garland with his typical smile.

"Mr. Garland," he replied with a nod.

_You have a habit of showing up wherever I am._

"You are a dinosaur lover?" he said with an eyebrow arc.

"Isn't everyone?" the young man said, with a smirk. Gesturing to the massive monster, "Isn't she marvellous?"

_It is a male._

"Indeed. Quite breathtaking."

Garland's gaze fixed on Murdoch and the smile disappeared. "I heard what happened between you and Julia...that you had a falling out."

"Really?" he said with a frown. "How?"

"Oh you know how these things go. People are such gossips."

Leslie put a hand on his shoulder. Instinctively he didn't like the mans touch and wanted very badly to shrug out of it but somehow restrained himself. He had felt the same thing every time he had to shake hands with Darcy.

"I'm truly sorry, William." Observing him closely, "Do you have any idea why she refused you?"

"No," he replied, "I do not."

Garland scrutinized him for some seconds more and then said, "To be sure, women are quite mysterious creatures...but perhaps you will be able to figure it out?"

"Perhaps."

Leslie was on the verge of replying when George appeared.

"Constable," said Garland as he abruptly left.

George seemed to be rigid. "George, what is wrong?"

"Nothing, sir."

Murdoch continued to stare at him. The constable sighed. "Leslie is courting Emily."

_Already?_ he thought, surprised.

"Are you sure? You do realize that kiss they shared was not-"

"Yes, I'm sure, sir," George said gloomily.

An awkward silence ensued while he tried to think of something comforting to say. Thankfully he was spared by the return of Brackenreid.

The inspector took one look at the two of them and his smile slid off his face. "What's happened?"

George looked over in Garland's direction and the inspector followed his line of sight.

"Bloody hell," he scowled, "the little tosser. I have half a mind to-"

A tray with glasses full of white wine passed by and the inspector followed in its wake.

"Would you like to leave soon, George?"

"Please don't feel you need to cater to me, sir," George muttered, apparently embarrassed. "This is supposed to be your night."

"And I thank you both for getting me back on my feet but I don't want you to be uncomfortable if you don't have to be."

The constable thought about that for a moment. His eyes narrowed. "No, sir, we won't leave. I don't want to give him the satisfaction."

"There's a good lad," said Brackenreid slapping George on the back with his free hand. The other was holding a mostly empty wine glass. Shooting Garland a dirty look, "Man needs to learn his place."

* * *

Unsurprisingly the phone did not work...because there was none! There wasn't even any running water or furniture, except for one rickety old table and chair. What had she expected? Still...it seemed so wrong to just be sitting here while that man continued to rot. Her pathologist instincts had kicked in and were continuing to nudge at her. A sentiment she was sure Emily shared.

The shock of finding him had served to sober all of them up. As such, the mood had become rather oppressive in the little, semi-derelict cabin. She fervently wished the lock would latch better than it did, but there was nothing for it.

"We should go!" said Patricia, in a whining manner. "It's not safe here!"

"Oh hush!" said Betty. "The man simply had a tumble. Those sorts of things happen all the time, don't they, Emily?"

"Indeed they do," her friend agreed, "but they are rarely accidents."

Silence accompanied this remark.

"You see!" squealed Patricia, jumping up from her spot on the floor (they had been sitting in a circle). "It's not safe here!"

"Actually," continued Emily, "from the little I could see, he appeared to have died some time ago. If this was indeed murder, the murderer would be long gone by now."

"But you can't _know_ that!" shrieked Patricia, half frantic, hands in her hair. "He could be out there right now just waiting to get us!"

"Calm down!" snapped Betty, "before you faint again!"

Felicity gently pulled her friend back down beside her. Patricia clung onto her like she were a life preserver and they were stranded at sea.

"Well, I suppose it's up to you, Emma," said Betty, calmly. "What do you want to do?"

Emma looked around at them all in turn and then frowned. "I didn't walk miles to get here only to be scared away by some old dead body. Besides, if we leave now, that will signify the end of my party...and I very much wanted to spend the night in a haunted house."

"But-" sputtered Patricia.

"Then it's settled," cut in Betty. "We're staying."

_Great_, thought Julia. _So much for relaxing._


	3. Chapter 3

The very floorboards seemed to creak for no apparent reason and every time they did, Patricia would jump involuntarily. If the alcohol had still been flowing through her veins full force, she would have found this amusing, but given the body that had been found, she thought it best to keep her wits sharp so she would not be partaking any further, a sentiment some of the other girls didn't seem to share. As it was, this response had rather begun to get on her nerves. As did Emma's insistence at playing around with a Ouija board.

"Everyone in the room has to participate or it won't work," Emma informed her when she first refused.

Oh yes, _that_ is the reason it won't work, Julia thought sarcastically._ I can just leave then._

"It could be fun," said Emily, with a glint in her eye.

Julia was well aware of her friends belief in the after life and spirits in general. The lengths Emily had gone to to discover this after life had astonished and sickened her. Julia had thought Emily beyond such fanatical behaviour, and had firmly chastised her when she learned William had almost died due to her ridiculous and dangerous experiments. Given this unrelenting devotion, it was a wonder to her that Emily couldn't make things work with George. They seemed perfectly suited to one another in that regard, the constable having gone to great lengths to prove his many zany theories.

"Oh all right," she muttered for the second time that night.

Julia felt like a little school girl again, succumbing to peer pressure on a regular basis. That is, until she learned to stand up for herself better. It might have cost her some friends but she had been happier for it in the long run. Ruby had never had such an issue, largely because _she_ had always been the one pressuring others. But as it was, this was a one time get together and she would likely never see any of these women again so it behooved her to relent.

She plopped herself down on the large blue picnic blanket they had laid out on the dusty floor.

"Let us begin," said Emma with barely contained glee.

All six women leaned in and placed an index finger to the wooden arrow. Julia felt incredibly silly to be participating in such a thing but there was nothing for it. She couldn't very well be shown up by Patricia of all people. Then again, Patricia was heavily medicated and probably would have agreed to do just about anything.

"We invoke the power of the spirit world," half chanted Emma. "Oh great ones, hear our call. Come forth and let your presence be known!"

Not surprisingly nothing happened.

"Is there anyone among us?" continued Emma.

This time the arrow slowly glided towards the large YES.

Felicity and Patricia gasped at the sight but kept their fingers in place.

_Oh please_, thought Julia, rolling her eyes. She could see the smirk on Betty's face, it was so obvious she was the one directing the indicator.

"What is your name?" said Felicity in awe.

"I'm the one asking the questions here!" snapped Emma in reproach. Felicity looked quite abashed. It seemed as though Emma got rather irritable (not to mention uncaring about her friends emotional states) the longer she was drunk. In other words she became an awful lot like Betty. How delightful.

Emma composed herself into a more serene manner and said, "Oh great spirit, what is your name?"

The indicator moved across the board until it landed on an L. It proceeded to do the same thing for A, W, S, O and N.

"Lawson," intoned Emma, more to herself than anyone else. "What happened to you Lawson?"

When the arrow spelt out M-U-R, Patricia jerked her hand back and said, "I think that's quite enough! We shouldn't be meddling in things we don't understand!"

"Stop being such a baby!" said Emma, sharply. "Nothing's going to happen to us!"

Just then the door swung open with a loud thwack and almost everyone jumped.

"That was odd," she muttered to herself, with a slight frown.

"Most intriguing!" pipped up Felicity. Emily seemed to share this thought.

"There's nothing intriguing about it," deadpanned Betty. "The latch is broken."

"Regardless of how it happened, will somebody get the door?" said Emma. "It's letting in all the cold air!"

"I'll get it," said Julia, surprising even herself.

She hadn't meant to volunteer but it was too late to take it back now or be labelled a coward, so she stood up and went over to it. Julia peered out into the moonlit path and the forest it led to. Then her eyes wandered to the placid lake and the two upside down canoes. Everything appeared to be in order. As far as she could tell, there was nothing and no one else out there. Still she had begun to experience a sense of great unease, as if Gillies had followed her even here and was continuing to play mind tricks on her.

So it was that she was very jumpy when she closed the door, this time planting one of the boxes they had brought along with them as a door stop.

When she turned around someone said "Boo!" very loudly from very close and she instinctively shot out her fist. It landed in Emma's throat and the woman staggered back a few feet clutching it while she violently coughed.

"Oh I'm so sorry!" exclaimed Julia, trying to come to her aid, but Emma weakly flailed at her with one hand to keep her at bay.

Felicity shot Julia a dirty look as she quickly came over and shepherded the bride to be back over to her place on the floor. Emily approached her then.

"Emily, I didn't mean to-"

Her friend cut her off. "I know. I told her not to do that but she wouldn't listen." Emily observed her closely and put a hand to her forearm, a rare look of concern on her features. "Are you all right, Julia? You really do look as though you've seen a ghost."

"I'm fine," she said, rather unconvincingly.

"Did you see something?" Emily asked a little too eagerly, as if she really did think a spirit had opened the door. "Something unusual?"

"Don't be absurd. There's no one else here but us."

Emily gave her a queer look. "You _did _see something, didn't you?"

"Oh for heavens sakes, Emily, I can't believe you take any stock in this-"

There was a loud crash and their heads whipped in that direction.

"Oops!" said Patricia, very drunkenly. The girl had simply dropped a plate while attempting to get something to eat. Now that she thought about food, she realized she was very hungry. Over to the food bin she went. "A thousand pardons your grace," Patricia slurred bowing to Emma, who was still obviously ticked off at her by the way she was being glared at as she approached.

"Emma, I truly am sorry."

"Yes, I heard you the first time," Emma replied huffily, massaging her throat. "Not very ladylike, are you? No wonder you can't find a man willing to have you."

"Emma," warned Emily, clearly annoyed.

Julia decided to ignore Emma from here on out, or at least until she sobered up. The latter option was a long time away, considering the foolish girl was still imbibing heavily. The doctor in her wanted to tell her to take it easy but the slighted part simply paid no mind.

* * *

After even Murdoch had had his fill of the _Barosaurus_ exhibit, the three men rode their bicycles to Brackenreid's house and the inspector poured himself yet another drink. Murdoch had the funny feeling that the only reason the man had agreed to the exhibit was for the free alcohol. But apparently he hadn't gotten quite enough and the reason soon became rather obvious.

Scotch in hand, Brackenreid said, "About Dr. Ogden..."

"Yes, sir?" he enquired politely.

"Well, what the bloody hell do you think happened?"

Murdoch frowned. "As I've already informed you, sir, I don't know."

"But surely you have some theories? A woman in love doesn't refuse her sweetheart with no good reason."

Murdoch was silent and George pipped up. "Perhaps she didn't understand what was going on?"

"Bloody hell, Crabtree!" burst out Brackenreid laughing. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard from you! And that's saying something!"

George looked very offended but didn't comment.

A brief pause and then his boss prompted him again, "Well?"

"I can only speculate at this point."

"Go on then," the inspector said with a loud slurp of his drink.

"She said she was going out of town for a few days in order to check up on a patient."

"_And_?"

"And it was just after she came back from this visit that she refused me. It's possible there is a connection."

"You think something happened to her while she was away?"

"It's possible," he said with a nod.

"What are we waiting for, sirs!" exclaimed George, jumping up. "Let's investigate!"

"He's right, Murdoch, let's go!"

"Sir, it's quite late," he said glancing at his pocket watch which gave the time as after ten. "Perhaps it would be better to wait till morning? I wouldn't want to intrude on anyone's slumber."

"Bloody hell, Murdoch, if ever there was a time to intrude, it's now!"

A moment of reflection. "Yes, I suppose you are right, sir," he said grabbing his hat.

Before they left, Margaret made an appearance. She gave him her sincerest apologies and then took her husband aside for a moment.

"Did you ask him, Thomas?"

"Yes, I bloody well asked him the goddamn questions! Just like you wanted me too!"

"_Language_, Thomas."

Brackenreid groaned, said sorry and gave her a peck on the cheek. Then they were out the door.

* * *

**Am I disturbed that I laughed a lot writing the bit where Julia winds Emma? I've noticed she's been karate chopping a lot of people in the throats this season so I decided to keep that tradition alive. xD**


	4. Chapter 4

The trio bicycled for half an hour to get to Etobicoke where the asylum was situated. This distance was just one of the reasons Murdoch had desired to work with Julia more closely again. He had even planned on asking for permission to create a new position for her at the constabulary! It was a long shot of course, having a woman as part of the team was unheard of, but still, he had planned on asking Giles regardless. With any luck the man would have felt so guilty about almost getting an innocent woman hung, that he would have allowed such a thing. Now however, there were other obstacles that must be tackled first, before that idea could even be considered...

Shaking those thoughts aside, he leaned his bicycle against the nearest wall and quickly ascended the stairs, his companions only slightly behind him.

At the admittance desk a woman called out to them to identify themselves. Murdoch flashed his badge and that was the end of that conversation.

After traversing another flight of stairs they came to Julia's floor and they bee-lined towards her work place. He could riffle through her things to locate her day planner but first he would respect her privacy and only resort to that breach of trust if necessary. The night nurse was sitting nearby, reading.

"Excuse me, ma'am," said Murdoch.

She glanced up at them and seemed somewhat alarmed. Murdoch eased her conscience by flashing his badge and saying, "Good evening, I am Detective Murdoch and these are my colleagues."

"Good evening, sirs," she replied, closing the book. "How may I assist you?"

"Could you please locate Dr. Ogden's work schedule?"

"Yes, of course," she said. The nurse got up and crossed the room to where there was a stack of papers.

"Can you tell me where Dr. Ogden was scheduled to be...three to five days ago? She was visiting a patient that I'd very much like to speak with."

The nurse flipped a page and then another, went back to the beginning, used her finger to carefully scan down the list and then looked up at him apologetically.

"I'm sorry, detective," said the middle aged woman, "but I can't seem to find what you're asking for."

The three men shared a surprised look. Brackenreid grabbed the papers out of her hands. They perused the schedule several times themselves and then shared another baffled look.

"Must have been misplaced," he offered, getting the stink eye from the nurse. "I'm sure her own records are better maintained."

Murdoch walked over to Julia's desk and retrieved her day planner, making sure his back was towards the wall.

He opened it to the most recent entries.

_October 2__nd__ - 3__rd_ _: Emma Gershwin's bachelorette party in Lambton Woods. Bring a bathing suit just in case._

Anyone knowing their current situation would consider that strange information!

The entry before that was _September 25th: Rigoletto, 8 p.m. _

And before that, _September 24th: Leroux's, 7 p.m._

"Well?" enquired Brackenreid.

Murdoch looked up at the others and calmly said, "According to this, Julia was in Hamilton visiting with a Madeline Thatcher."

"Hamilton!" exclaimed Brackenreid.

"Pickles!" yelled someone from another room.

"Sir," said the nurse with a terse expression, "please try to keep in mind that the patients are resting."

Brackenreid grumbled something unintelligible.

"I don't suppose you want to travel there tonight, do you, sir?"

"No, I bloody well do not! Hamilton is ages from here!"

"Pickles! Pickles! Pickles!"

"Sir, _please-_"

Brackenreid grunted at her and gestured the others towards the staircase.

"Now what, sirs?" asked George. "Shall we make arrangements now or later?"

"That would only be necessary if we all go," said Murdoch. "And I don't think that it is."

"Are you suggesting that you go by yourself, Murdoch?"

"Well, sir, it doesn't seem prudent to tax the constabulary's resources without just cause. And for all we know there could be a very pressing matter to deal with over the next few days."

"Are you sure, me old mucker?" Brackenreid said with a hand to his shoulder.

"Yes, sir," he said with a curt nod, "I'm sure."

* * *

Most of the girls (save for Betty and Emily) had passed out drunk by one in the morning and she was glad. Their childish games had been embarrassing to play and to witness. Julia wondered, not for the first time, why Emily was friends with them exactly. Then again, considering she wasn't exactly miss popularity herself, she shouldn't judge...but she couldn't seem to help it. She hadn't wanted to come here in the first place and be reminded of the one thing she would give anything to have, that always seemed to be just out of reach...and that of course was a long awaited engagement to William.

By now she was stone cold sober and since she didn't have the faintest inkling to try and sleep, not the least because there was only a hard floor to look forward to in that regard, but also because the dead man in the woods continued to draw her attention. However, her unfounded fears about Gillies kept holding her back.

As if reading her thoughts Emily said, "Dead man calling?"

"How did you know?" she said taken aback, heart rate drastically increasing.

Emily stared at her quizzically. "You kept looking out the window."

It took her a moment to realize Emily wasn't referring to Gillies.

"Oh, yes, of course," she muttered.

"By all means," said Betty, who was playing with a deck of cards, "go take another look." Julia glanced around at the three vague sleeping forms under blankets. Betty followed her gaze. "I can stay here and watch over the girls," Betty smirked, "make sure no spirits bother them."

Emily didn't seem amused by her joke and said, "Well then then, Julia, let us investigate this matter further."

* * *

As they advanced towards the body by following the stones Julia had laid down earlier, Emily once again broached an unpleasant topic.

"Before when I suggested that William had been unfaithful to you, I was not being serious, I was simply trying to invoke a response. I personally never would have thought him capable. Forgive me for pursuing this line of enquiry, Julia, but you must admit it is most curious."

"Are you suggesting that I am lying?" she said sharply.

Rather than answer that direct question Emily said, "Who was she? The woman who made William forget his place?"

"Emily, why must you persist in tormenting me?"

"Because I care about you," Emily said, stopping, trying to get her to share eye contact, "and I want to help in any way possible. But I can't do that if you won't tell me the truth."

An internal struggle raged within her. In the end she decided she simply couldn't tell Emily about the death threats. Not yet anyway...

"I'm not ready to tell you yet," she said quietly, eyes averted.

Emily took her hand and squeezed it. "All right, Julia, but just know I am here for you when you are."

"Thank you," she said with a small smile.

The rest of the trek was completed in silence. Back at the top of the steep hill, they again peered over the edge in order to scout out the best path for descent. Eventually they decided to adopt a zigzagging pattern as their mode of operation. Put into practice it worked marvellously until Julia's skirts snagged on something and she lost her footing. Thankfully she was near the end and only tumbled a small amount.

"Are you all right?" said Emily nearby, a few seconds later.

"Yes, I'm fine," she said, pushing herself upright and dusting herself off, feeling foolish.

Both composed, they made their way over to the decomposing body and knelt down on either side of it. It had been awhile since she had been so close to human remains and especially such ripe ones that she felt the need to pinch her nose closed. Emily noticed and smirked but said nothing.

They both examined the man for some seconds in silence, Julia with her eyes, Emily with her hands. Julia didn't much feel like touching the corpse, there were flies and maggots all over the place, not to mention his skin was just about falling off, but Emily didn't seem to have a problem. Her friends eyes had lit up in fascination and that other way that Julia had always found a bit creepy. She wondered if she had ever looked like that too. She hoped not.

Emily looked up. "His neck is broken."

"Consistent with a fall."

"It would be except for these bruises here."

Emily pulled back the remnants of the mans collar, to expose his neck, and even though little was still intact, there were clear signs of bruising. Two human fingers in fact.

"Murder then."

This realization served to disquiet her again and she glanced around, half expecting Gillies to jump out of the bushes.

"Well, there is little else we can do at the moment," she said, "we should head back and get some rest."

They stood to leave when there was a noise from somewhere in the vicinity, it was hard to pinpoint. She whirled around to where she thought it had come from and held the lantern aloft but could not discern anything out of the ordinary. Then there was the same sound from closer by and Emily took the lantern from her and went over to investigate, leaving her behind, in the dark.

Presently Julia became aware of a strange, almost muffled glow across the way, not twenty feet in the distance. She decided to see what that was about and moved towards it.

"It's just a raccoon," Emily called after a minute.

"That's good to kno-" here she found the ground had disappeared beneath her feet and a second later she landed roughly on her side. "Ow!"

_Why am I so clumsy? I'm not even intoxicated!_

"Julia? Where are you?"

"Down here, Emily!" she yelled, getting back onto her feet.

Underbrush crunched rapidly, "Be careful," she warned, the footsteps slowed down and then her friend appeared.

"Are you all right?" Emily asked, hunching over.

"A little sore," she said rubbing her wrists, "but otherwise fine."

"What is this hole doing here?"

"I don't know, I saw a light, and-" one glance served to inform her that it had not been anything spectacular but simply another lantern. And it was this seemingly mundane observation that terrified her more than anything else had.

Whose lantern was it?

* * *

**Dun dun dun! :D**


	5. Chapter 5

Julia had tried several times now to jump high enough to get a grip on the top of this ten foot pit. Emily had held her hands out and tried to heave her out but that wasn't working either. If they kept at this method, they both would end up trapped.

"It's no use," she said, somewhat dirty and tired.

"I agree."

"You'll have to go back to the cabin and hope there's some rope to be found."

Emily gave her an incredulous look, which appeared quite ghoulish in the dim lighting. "Julia, I can't leave you here, undefended! What if whoever made this hole comes back before I do?"

"What do you suggest we do then, Emily? Wait until morning? That's hours away!"

"Perhaps it will be sooner? Perhaps Betty will think to come looking for us when we don't return?"

_ And perhaps pigs will fly._

"I'm not afraid," she said, even though she was.

"This is no time for mock heroics."

"Emily, just go. Get help as quickly as possible."

After a moment of anguished indecision Emily finally pushed herself up and soon was out of earshot.

Now that that was done with, Julia had a chance to check her surroundings out more thoroughly. Any occupation, however pointless seemed desirable when the alternative was to do nothing and dwell on the possibility that a murderer was coming for her. Gillies was plenty enough in that regard, thank you very much.

So she picked up the lantern that had been sitting on a little wooden shelf embedded in the rock behind her and glanced around. To the left of her there was nothing but more dirt. To the right there appeared to be the same but upon moving closer she was able to see that there was actually a bend in the earth here and a tunnel was connected to her current position.

_Have the mole people arisen after all? Better not tell George._

Holding the lantern as high as she could, she was able to see how far it went, and it went quite far.

Propelled forth by curiousity she moved along this tunnel, and once she was a little bit further she realized it was gradually sloping downwards, that there were beams above her head as well as a mostly intact track. This was an abandoned mine shaft then!

Well, perhaps abandoned wasn't the best term to use. Someone had clearly lit the lantern she was now holding...

_Don't be foolish_, she told herself_. Stay where you are!_

Ignoring her internal warning system she commenced wandering down the pitch dark tunnel towards the unknown. It was completely silent here except for the occasional drip of water off in the distance and her own echoing footsteps.

Whoever else was down here would surely know she was coming.

Finally getting a hold of herself she decided to turn around but then she saw another light up ahead, shining from the left fork in the road that she was approaching.

For the second time that night she thought of a Will-o'-the-wisp, those eerie, unexplainable lights that led weary travellers to their demise.

_ What am I doing?_

Before advancing further she glanced around for some sort of weapon. There was a rusty pickaxe leaning against the wall and she picked it up but could not hold it upright as it was too heavy for just one arm. Half dragging it, she continued onward towards the light.

After following this path for a minute she realized she was approaching a dead end as the tunnel had caved in at this point. Or should she say, what _used_ to be a dead end. There was a small hole through the rubble here, but large enough to accommodate a man...

The second lantern was on the ground in the middle of this area. She placed her own right beside it so that she could grip the pickaxe properly and use it to defend herself if necessary.

"Hello?" she called out nervously, her voice magnified by the absolute stillness.

No one responded at first but then she heard movement off to her side and whirled in that direction.

A figure slowly came out of the shadows towards her. It had long scraggly hair, was hunched over, almost walking on all fours, and was very, very dirty. It was hard to say where the man (if man he be) began and the remnants of clothing ended.

"Who are you?" she asked tentatively, gripping the pickaxe tighter.

What she really meant was, _what_ are you?

The ghoul lifted its face to her, exposing one large, gleaming protrusive eye (the other was covered by hair). Then it said something completely unintelligible in an exceedingly harsh voice and crawled towards her.

_Oh God, Oh God, Oh God!  
_

* * *

_There_, he thought with grim satisfaction, _that should keep them off the real trail for some time._

It was very late when Murdoch finally trudged upstairs to his apartment, absolutely bone tired. As he stripped down into his long johns he glanced over at his desk where the letter from Julia lay. It was ordinary looking enough...

"_Dear William, I am going to be out of town for a few days visiting a patient. She's known to be quite wild. Wish me luck on my adventure. Yours always, Julia._

_P.S. Speaking of visits, my sister is thinking of coming in on the seventh, but I thought the eighth might be more appropriate given that my father is away until then. What are your thoughts?"_

A casual observer would find nothing out of the ordinary here but when Murdoch had read through it in full, alarm bells had started to go off. After all of their near death experiences, they had decided some time ago to have a code word, something that would alert the other to any hidden danger. That word was adventure. Since she had written it instead of spoken it to him, he knew he couldn't speak to her openly about the problem. So as they had previously arranged for just such a circumstance, they were to meet at the library in a certain section. Julia had intimated eight p.m. in her note as the time of the rendezvous. He arrived early. When Julia showed up dressed as a man, complete with wig and mustache, he knew the issue was very grave.

They were on opposite sides of the bookcase, pretending to look for something to read.

"Try not to react," she said quietly, in a semi-manly voice.

Murdoch said nothing.

"Two nights ago I received a...death threat from James Gillies."

Murdoch's hands clenched tightly and his breathing increased but other than that he didn't respond.

"There was even a photograph of you and I after Rigoletto."

"What did the threat entail?" he whispered, picking up a book and perusing it's contents.

"It said that if I married you I would die and if I informed you of the threat...we both would. I hope you don't think this makes me cavalier with your life...but I didn't know what else to do...he wanted us to part ways forever..."

Her voice had been breaking throughout this and he desperately wanted to hold her hand but dared not to try.

"No, you did the right thing Ju-..."

A brief silence.

"I investigated further today."

"And?"

She sighed. "And there was another threat, along with another photograph...this time of you...in the station house."

This was all too much to take in! When would this ominous cloud finally pass?

They had spent a fair amount of time in close proximity and he decided it would be best to wrap this up. "Send me everything you have...but do so discreetly...meet me here again in a days time. He managed to catch her eye through a hole in the books, "Stay strong."

She smiled faintly and said, "You as well."

Julia left and five minutes later, so did he, with a heavy heart.

* * *

Juggling the Eva Pierce matter and this additional threat had been utterly impossible. By the time he received the parcel from a Wilton Jones the next day, and was free from his work duties, there was no time to investigate any of the contents (besides a cursory glance) before their second rendezvous. Regardless, the nature of the case had given him an idea. It was not going to be a well received one but as far as he was concerned, it was the only way to go about further investigation, unperturbed.

"I think we best do as the threat says," he said quietly from behind the bookcase separating them. "Just to be safe."

"You want to break up with me?" she said through clenched teeth, a little louder than she should have.

"No," he said simply, with a slight smirk. "I want _you_ to break up with _me_."

"What?!" she hissed with barely restrained rage.

"We of course would only be pretending."

"Oh," she said after a moment, understanding dawning, "I see!"

"For it to have a big impact, it needs to be something...showy and in public. Your stalker needs to believe what he sees."

"Stalker? Do you not mean Gillies?"

"Gillies could never have taken that photograph of me in the station house without my notice. Someone must be assisting him."

Another pause. "What do you suggest we do?"

"You're not going to like it. In fact, I would rather not do this myself...but it's the only way."

"Out with it!"

"I'm going to propose to you tomorrow..." there was a sharp intake of breath, "and you will refuse me, most adamantly."

He had expected another outburst but instead there was only silence and he assumed resignation by the tone of her voice when she next spoke. "Nothing is ever simple with us, is it?"

* * *

And so for the past two days he had been tirelessly going through the Gillies file and every piece of evidence Julia had collected. The bottle, the letters, the photographs, they were all coated in fingermark ink. After he had ruled out all of hers, he had come to the conclusion that there were no others! This and the fact that both of the letters had been typed was highly suspect to him. If James Gillies were truly behind this sordid affair, why should he care if it were possible to positively confirm his identity? After everything he had done, what was the point? He was a dead man walking! (assuming of course he was even still alive).

No, Murdoch had begun to suspect that someone else was behind these threats. He had pondered and pondered and pondered some more about who stood to gain something in this scenario. Who besides Gillies would go to such extreme, yet secretive lengths to keep him and Julia apart? Who could possibly hold such a grudge against them? Who had easy access to her life, and consequently her house and diaries? Eventually there was only one culprit who came to mind. Leslie Garland!

It all fit! Leslie had given them the opera tickets! He knew where they would be and at what time! It would have been child's play to take that first blackmail photograph! And ever since that day on the beach, Murdoch was well aware that Leslie was quite a competent photographer!

The second blackmail photograph had given him pause though. He could not figure out how Leslie had taken such a close shot of him in the station house no less, without anyone being the wiser. And then it had hit him like a ton of bricks. It was so obvious! Leslie had used the kiss with Dr. Grace as a distraction! Someone else had taken the photograph!

This revelation had been made just a short while before the inspector and George had arrived, a bit later than he had anticipated. Thankfully he had made sure to wear his grubbiest clothing, spilling whiskey on himself to appear and smell drunk, his blood shot eyes had been attained from his exertions. All that was left to him was to sway on the spot and be uncommunicative.

And why? Why was he hiding the truth from them? For the simple fact that he could very well be wrong. And if he were and Gillies was indeed the culprit, informing Brackenreid was the last thing he wanted to do. Not only would it put him and Julia at greater risk and potentially ruin their con, but it would negate all possibilities of him dealing with the fugitive in his own way.

If Gillies was behind this, Murdoch was determined to put an end to him once and for all. And if not, well, Leslie was in for a rude awakening.

* * *

**I think I shouldn't watch LotR before writing...:p**


	6. Chapter 6

**Lol, okay, so LotR stands for Lord of the Rings. Hope that clears things up!**

* * *

The creature continued to move towards her slowly.

"Stay back!" she warned. "I don't want to hurt you!"

It didn't pay her any mind and she prepared to strike it with the hefty pickaxe, heart hammering against her ribcage, palms sweating profusely.

_If I die now, William will be very vexed. Better not, then._

Before it got close enough, it turned, seemingly ignoring her and headed over to the hole in the wall. When she stayed rooted to the spot, it cocked it's head over its shoulder and gave her a piercing stare. Again it spoke to her but now that the immediate danger appeared to have passed, she was able to comprehend it in a way. Julia still had no idea what it was saying but now she understood it wasn't gibberish or the deranged ramblings of a mad man, but rather another language. Based on her travels to Europe and her time with Freud, she thought it might have been German, or something like that. Unfortunately, she never did learn to speak any herself as there was never any need to. Freud was quite competent with the English language and she hadn't gone to Vienna for German lessons.

Resting the pickaxe on her shoulder, but still in an attitude of self defence, she picked up a lantern and followed the man, keeping several feet of distance between them.

At the hole he managed to stretch himself out (with many an agonized groan) as he squeezed himself through. On the other side he poked his dirty beard covered face out at her and spoke again.

In front of the hole now she could see that it was going to be a tight fit.

"I'm sorry," she told the man, "but I don't see how I will be able to get through here."

_Not if I want to hold on to this pickaxe._

The man became impatient and simply kept gesturing for her to try.

"Oh all right."

Releasing her grip on the lantern and tool, she began to force herself through the hole, praying she didn't get stuck or that he decided to attack her after all.

Her shoulders very nearly wedged but once she was past them, the rest was simple enough, though her corset dug into her terribly. Julia reached through the hole and hefted the lantern, giving a wistful glance at the pickaxe beside it.

_What am I doing?_ she thought to herself again.

The man was hunched over once more and looking behind him frequently to see that she was following. They walked for a short while until they came to a little alcove. And in this alcove there were three prone forms.

_Oh God! These must be his past victims! And now it is my turn!_

One of the forms stirred slightly on their approach and looked over at her.

"Hallelujah!" he said weakly. "I thought we was done for."

She clued in then.

"You are miners?" she said, gesturing to the German and the others who were asleep.

"Yes, darlin'. Most of us been for all our God fearin' lives."

He must have noticed how her eyes had lingered on the 'mole' man.

"Don't worry your pretty little head over him. He's perfectly harmless. Ain't ya, Gregor?"

The man said something that sounded like an affirmation but could have been anything.

"Can you understand him?"

"A mite." He grinned, showcasing filthy teeth. "Hazard of the job."

Julia went over to him and began to examine his smelly, frail body. It was quite emaciated, as were all the others. She hadn't noticed it till now but even the German was (but he was a little less so than the others which possibly explained why he was the one out and about even though he was clearly injured).

"What happened here?"

"Damn cave in about four months past-"

"Four months! Dear Heavens! How have you survived all this time?"

"It's right surprisin' how many critters live down here," he said with a mischievous expression.

She tried not to shiver at the notion of eating such fare for so long, or the implications to their systems. If they had been eating them raw, it was a wonder any of them were still alive. But then she realized they could have at least partially cooked them over the flame from a lantern.

"Why did your fellow workers not come to your aid?" she asked, moving on to another man, waking him up in the process.

Glowering for the first time, "Ain't got a clue." He stared at her as she continued to examine the men. "Say, why you doin' that, girl?"

"I'm a doctor."

"Really?" he said in a surprised way. "How...wonderful!"

She had a feeling he would have said something different had the circumstances been different. Many men, especially uneducated ones, tended to have a hard time dealing with her profession.

"Well," she said standing up and dusting herself off, "I suppose it's about time we got you gentlemen out of here."

"Damn, girl," he said with a smirk, "you sure know how to get a fella in a good mood."

* * *

It was hours later by the time they managed to get any help for the trapped miners. In the meantime, Julia and Emily had been bringing what supplies they could to revive the men a bit. Neither had their medical kits with them though so no physical injuries could be looked after much.

Once the dozen or so rescuers arrived, mostly volunteer firemen from the nearest town that they had called, it was mid morning before the men were liberated. The rubble had been so tough to get through that the firemen had almost resorted to using dynamite but since none of them really knew how to use it properly and didn't want to risk another cave in, they had opted against it. So progress was very slow but would have been even slower if it hadn't been for the hole that Gregor had managed to create before grievously pulling his back.

The miners were lifted out of the pit on stretchers attached to rope, almost like a reverse funeral burial, but unlike that unfortunate event this was one of jubilation and gratitude. However, when the procession passed by the rotting corpse, (taking a much less treacherous though much longer route around the steep descent) it turned to one of scowls and disgust. The mystery of his demise would need to wait until the miners were stabilized.

Sometime after everyone (including the miners who hadn't survived) was being looked after in the nearest town, the Toronto constabulary, specifically station house four, made an appearance. To Julia's surprise William was not one of the members. But seeing as she wasn't supposed to be interacting with him at all, it was probably for the best. Still she was interested to know where he could be after hearing about such an unusual situation.

"Dr. Ogden," greeted Inspector Brackenreid coldly. "You seem to create problems wherever you go. As usual, _you_ came out unscathed, unlike the rest of these poor bastards."

Julia ignored the not so subtle jab. Based on what Thomas knew about the failed proposal, it was only fitting that he would be rather unsentimental towards her. Still, it bothered her to know he was thinking ill of her because it had taken years for him to take a liking towards her, and that liking had been shattered time and time again throughout the trials of her relationship with William. Thankfully this time things were not what they appeared and the inspector would hopefully forgive their deception and do more than tolerate her presence again.

George took her statement. The affair was awkward but not nearly as awkward as that of Emily's. Even from a distance it was quite evident that they were ill at ease around one another.

_Serves her right_, thought Julia uncharitably. _She should have known better than to court Leslie on the coattails of another. _

Then she realized she had done much worse than this and promptly forgave Emily for her misconduct. All these oppressive policemen around her were giving her bad thoughts so she went over to the building where the miners were and tended to them in any way she could, including soothing some of the kinks in Gregor's back. Emily joined her a little later and they worked in silence for awhile until George and Henry came in to take the conscious miners statements as well.

"Excuse me sir," said George to the man she still hadn't gotten a name from, "but are you up for giving me your statement?"

"I could fly to the moon," he said with his signature grin.

"Your name, sir?"

"Jonathan Stiles."

"In your own words can you tell me what happened in the mine?"

Stiles proceeded to do so and she listened with rapt attention when he described the cave in.

"Now can you tell me why your employer..."

"Mr. Stapleton," supplied Stiles.

"Why did Mr. Stapleton not attempt his own rescue?"

"Well, copper, as I told that lovely lady over there," here he stopped to wink at Julia, "I don't rightly know." He stretched and yawned. "We almost done here? I'm a wee bit tired."

George became a bit serious. "Nearly, sir, nearly. What can you tell me about the body just outside the mine's opening?"

Stiles smile disappeared. "That'd be that low down good for nothin' Wilmer."

"Sir?"

"Greedy bastard took more of our rations than he should've one night." Stiles smiled sweetly. "I might've lost my temper a mite and given him a good throttlin'."

Julia was confused and so was George apparently.

"But his body was found outside-"

"True enough, copper," Stiles agreed with a nod. "Slippery bastard got away from me and knocked me out cold. Must have squeezed himself through the hole in the wall. Which is mighty impressive considering the size of that despicable son of a gun."

"So you have no idea how he ended up dead?"

"No, siree Bob, I don't. Though I can't say I'm sorry to see him gone."

Emily spoke up here. "I believe I do."

Everyone turned to face her, though George kept his eyes averted from hers. "When I examined the body earlier, I noticed several instances of fractured bones. I assumed he had been strangled and then pushed off of the cliff. However now it appears the cause of death was Wilmer simply losing his footing at a sufficient enough height to snap his neck."

"I believe Emily is right. This would also explain why no one bothered to bury the body. There was no one to do so."

"Wonderful theories, ladies," boomed Brackenreid from behind, "but let's leave the _police_ work to the _police_men, shall we?"


	7. Chapter 7

Despite going to bed late he awoke at the crack of dawn thanks to the home made alarm system he had forgotten to turn off. The rest of the boarding house was not overly fond of this noisy contraption but Mrs. Kitchen was quite fond of him ever since he saved her from that psychotic confidence trickster, so all complaints fell on deaf ears. Needless to say there had been a lot of residential turnover in the last few years, a fact that Murdoch was oblivious to as he was rarely home except to sleep or dodge Mrs. Kitchen's cooking.

Once dressed he took a quiet moment to open the silver case and have a peek inside. He had lost track of the number of times he had done just such a thing over the course of the past four years. Murdoch wasn't one for jewelry but even he could appreciate the majesty of this ring and was still certain he had made a lovely choice - he better have, it was an enormous investment that could no longer be refunded! It had cost more than all of his clothing combined! And he had two suits, one tuxedo, two pairs of shoes, two hats and twenty three ties! (admittedly most of those were presents from Brackenreid and George but he had calculated their worth and decided to include them in the total regardless).

He revelled in the ruby's sublime beauty as it glistened in the golden rays streaming through his only window for some minutes and then promptly closed the case; with any luck, for the last time.

* * *

During the course of a normal investigation, Murdoch would be inclined to check the suspects alibi out. But Garland had given no excuse as to why he could not attend the opera so there was nothing to verify. Besides, Murdoch had no idea who Leslie's friends were (or even if he had made any since moving from Buffalo, with the exception of several nameless women) so there was no one to interview in that capacity.

Therefore his first stop for the day was the small inn where the first blackmail photograph was taken. Murdoch asked the clerk to show him the registry for that night. Apparently a Mr. Gianniotti had rented the place out for the next week flat.

_An Italian? How very fitting. _

Murdoch was of course thinking of The Black Hand and all of their sordid blackmail schemes.

"He in some kind of trouble, detective? Didn't seem like the sort."

"I'm afraid I can't discuss the details of my investigation at this time."

"Yes, of course. What is it you wanted to know?"

"When was the last time you saw Mr. Gianniotti?"

The younger man was thoughtful, and stroked his orange beard absentmindedly. "Hmm, I suppose it was the day after he paid for everything."

_That would fit with the time line. The picture in the station house was taken not long before Julia came across it, necessitating another visit by the blackmailer to this establishment._

"Did he have any unusual requests about the place?"

Hertion eyed him strangely. "Yes, as a matter of fact he did. Said no cleaning was to be done and no one was to enter, unless of course a certain woman came calling."

"And what was this woman's name to be?"

"No name was given, detective. Just a vague description."

"Which was?"

"A tall attractive blonde lady. I didn't ask anything further, sir."

"Oh and why is that?"

"It wasn't any of my business and I like to keep my customers confidence." The irony of that statement seemed to be lost on him. Mr. Hertion glanced around Murdoch, towards a customer who was waiting impatiently to sign in. "Not to be rude, detective but are we almost done here?"

"One last question, Mr. Hertion. What did Mr. Gianniotti look like?"

The clerk was silent for a time. "Well, detective, he was a little shorter than you, with a similar hair colour, but a little lighter. And he was clean shaven and much more finely dressed." Murdoch raised an eyebrow. "Not that there's anything wrong with your attire, sir!" he exclaimed rather flustered. "You look quite dashing!"

"No offence was taken, Mr. Hertion, calm down. What else can you tell me?"

"Sir?"

"How old was the man?"

Hertion shrugged. "I'm not too good with ages. My best guess is twenty something."

"Thank you very much, sir," he said with a tip of his hat and a self satisfied smile. "Good day."

* * *

It was all well and good to have more assurance that Garland was indeed behind the death threats, but he needed cold hard proof before he would fully believe it. So without further ado he telephoned 693 Jarvis Street and waited to see if Leslie or a servant was presently home. No one picked up and Murdoch made his way there, quickly on his bicycle.

He stationed his vehicle some distance from his destination so as not to arouse suspicion should any nosy neighbours be out and about. His thoughts drifted towards those of Mrs. Smithe - the woman who positively identified Julia as entering this very house and contributing to her almost demise – Murdoch didn't want to have to deal with her if at all possible. Heading around back he retrieved his trusty skeleton key, took a deep breath and entered the abode.

The place was much more untidy than he remembered it being, but other than that little had been changed since Darcy's unfortunate demise. However, the atmosphere seemed thicker, more oppressive, as if he were being watched at this very moment. Whether this resulted more from unpleasant remembrances or from his current illegal activity, he couldn't say. What was certain was that he was on high alert, straining his senses for the slightest sound or movement, almost paranoid in his actions.

Murdoch gingerly stepped over the spot that Gillies had turned into a trap door. The outline to it was still visible in the wooden floor and though the constabulary had dismantled the cage below it, he couldn't help but be overly cautious. He could still vividly recall the last seconds of consciousness after the carbon monoxide gas was released, and the sense of resignation and wild desperation that took hold, knowing he would never again awaken. Such traumatic events tended to have a lasting impression on a person. But back to the present. He had no time to dawdle. Leslie could return at any moment.

_If I were a ne'er-do-well trying to hide incriminating evidence, where would it be?_

He noticed an ever so slightly crooked painting and smiled to himself. Murdoch pulled it off it's hook, expecting to find a hidden safe, like the late Mr. Carnegie had had. The wall paper was continuous. His expression soured.

_All right then. Where else? _

Up the stairs he went. A quick inspection of the first two bedrooms showed that no one had been in there for a time; the floors were both coated in fine layers of undisturbed dust. The third room down the hall had signs of life. Possessions galore filled the space, everything a young man could ever have want of. Clearly Garland had no qualms about spending his inheritance.

Murdoch eventually located Leslie's camera underneath some scattered clothing. It was one of the newest models that had enhanced lenses capable of taking quality shots from some distance. Judging by the weight of it, there was no film currently in it. A tilt of his head was all that was necessary to locate the curtain that signified a dark room.

He stepped into it and was immediately assailed with various versions of the same blackmail photographs Julia had received. There were even a few from other points of time when they had been together. There was no doubt now. Leslie was definitely their man!

The sheer arrogance of Garland astounded him. He had made no attempt whatsoever to hide or destroy the incriminating evidence! The man just assumed no one would ever suspect him! Not even the detective who had a heavy stake in this!

His relief that Gillies was not involved after all was short lived when the clear sounds of someone entering the house could be heard. Murdoch's mind switched gears and he considered his options for escape. The stairs overlooked the front entrance so it would be far too risky to attempt a direct approach. But the only other way to leave now would be through an upper floor window which had its own inherent risks as well (he was no spring chicken and as such his climbing abilities had seen better days). Better to stay put and hope whoever it was (he assumed Leslie) would just leave again within a little while.

Footsteps moved around downstairs for some minutes and then advanced towards him. Murdoch waited with baited breath as the person entered the bedroom and opened a drawer and then closed it. Then they sat on the edge of the bed. No other sound could be heard.

"You can come out now, detective," said a familiar voice, pleasantly.

Murdoch pulled back the curtain and found Garland facing him with a gun in hand.

"How did you know I was here?"

Garland smiled slightly. "Your shadow."

"I was in the dark," he said confused.

"Not _that_ type of shadow."

He was annoyed with himself for not noticing his tail. He had thought he had been so careful.

"I could shoot you now for breaking and entering," the young man said.

Murdoch's heart rate speed up. "We both know you won't do that."

Garland eyed him for a moment. "You're right of course. I wouldn't shoot you for something so inconsequential."

Now they were getting to the heart of the matter.

Steadying his nerves, "Your brother's death was not my fault."

"Wasn't it though?" Garland inquired, cocking his head to the side.

Julia had said much the same thing to him almost a year ago and for a second he felt a twinge of guilt.

"Killing me won't bring you justice. All it will do is ensure you are hung."

"That is assuming of course that I am found out."

There was that intolerable arrogance again! He clenched his fists tight.

"I managed to discover your role in this once before-"

"Yes, detective," Leslie agreed, nodding a few times, "you did. _You_. But I have it on good authority that you haven't told anyone else about your suspicions."

"Julia could put the pieces together." _We're in your house for crying out loud!_ "She's a fine detective."

Garland's eyes narrowed. For the first time Leslie's inner feelings seemed to be surfacing. "That _whore_ won't get the chance."

As this insult concluded he lunged at Leslie and they struggled for control of the weapon. It went off and Garland collapsed to the ground, clutching his chest as blood poured through his fingertips.

"Not going to defend her honour?" said Leslie, with a smirk, bringing Murdoch back to reality. "I'm surprised at you, detective. I thought you were more chivalrous than that. But perhaps you do nothing because you know I speak the truth. Any woman who conducts herself as appallingly as Julia does is no true lady. In fact, I'm quite certain she's _worse_ than a whore. At least _they_ have the decency to hide their liaisons and not _force_ the whole world to witness their disgrace." The devil's eyes flashed. "I wouldn't be surprised if you weren't her only conquest while she was still married to my brother."

Though his rage was doing its damnedest to push through to the surface, Murdoch simply smiled back throughout this speech. Stiffly, "I know what you're trying to do Garland and it won't work. You can't provoke me into attacking you so that you feel more justified in the kill. If you want to end my life, you will have to do so of your own volition. I will have no part in it."

"Have it your way then," Garland said, all trace of amusement gone.

Garland gestured with his gun hand for Murdoch to move towards the door. At the bottom of the stairs he told him to move into the den and positioned more or less where Darcy had been standing when he was shot.

"Looks about right, wouldn't you say?"

"How did you know where-"

"Had a look at that James Gillies file some time back. Wasn't hard. The security in your station house is non-existent. You should really do something about that. Well, not _you_..."

Garland aimed the gun at his head but stayed far enough back so that he couldn't swivel around and stop him. Murdoch could see him cocking the gun from his peripheral vision.

Rather desperate he said, "Don't ruin your life for some misguided notion of vengeance. Darcy wouldn't want you to do this."

"Don't you _dare_ speak his name," growled Leslie dangerously, taking a step closer.

"He was a good man. A peaceful man. A healer. Darcy abhorred violence."

"What did I _just_ say?" barked Leslie, almost within reach.

"I'm truly sorry that he was murdered. Darcy didn't deserve to die like that, without even knowing what had happened."

"If you won't shut up on your own, I'll _make_ you shut up! Permanently!"

With that exclamation, Murdoch's arm shot out and yanked Leslie's gun hand upright. A shot went off and then they bitterly struggled with the weapon, banging into cabinets and tables, knocking things all over the place, creating a great deal of noise. Through all of this, Garland managed to hold on to the gun with incredible strength. True the man was half his age but still, he thought he would have gotten the upper hand by now!

Then Garland did something very ungentlemanly like and kicked him in the groin, hard. Murdoch let go and collapsed on the ground, unaccustomed to such crippling pain. Leslie aimed at him and he regained his wits long enough to roll out of the way before the second shot went off. Springing to his feet again, he once more charged at Garland and was nearly upon the man when the third shot was fired...directly into his chest.

Just like his fantasy, blood came gushing out and he fell to the floor.


	8. Chapter 8

Leslie ran the second Murdoch hit the floor, unmoving. After three bullets were fired it was a certainty someone had called the constabulary. Garland's window for escape was small but if he kept his wits about him, he could very well evade capture.

Ten seconds or so after the murderous young man fled, Murdoch was able to catch his breath after being severely winded. He put a hand to his chest and groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position. The bullet proof vest he had been wearing was not meant for such close encounters. There would be a rather nasty bruise just over his heart for some time. This was full of irony but he was in no mood to notice.

_Forgive me George_, he thought, wincing, _for ever making you go through this._

He ripped open his shirt and pulled out the pack of blood capsules he had taped in a scattered pattern across the vest. It was not human blood but rather pigs blood. He didn't have quite so easy access to such things as Dr. Grace did and had had to improvise. In any case, it was a fair bet the display had been equally convincing; the carpet around him was soaked in a dark red.

With a little more effort he heaved himself to his feet, a staggering pain registering throughout him. Murdoch was sure Garland would stay true to his threat. Therefore Julia was in danger and he would just need to push through this pain and get to her before Garland did.

As he made his way to the main hall, his body in loud protest, he heard fast approaching footsteps and halted just out of sight of the front door. A frown creased his features. He hadn't been expecting the constabulary to respond quite so quickly.

The door burst open and rather than any identification or the usual calls to lower weapons, there was only silence.

A figure shot past him and into the scene of the brawl. A loud yell of consternation sounded. The same form whipped by again but this time Murdoch lunged at it and knocked Garland over, the gun going flying.

Before his would be murderer had a chance to recover, he straddled Leslie and bashed his head into the floor several times until the man finally passed out.

Murdoch immediately retrieved his handcuffs from an inner pocket and lashed Garland to the staircases railing. Then he picked up the gun, collapsed into the nearest chair and wearily waited for the cavalry to arrive.

While he waited he pondered how Garland could have realized he had been duped. It didn't take long to figure out. If Leslie was courting Emily it was highly probable she had recounted the elements of the Eva Pierce ruse to him since he had been unwittingly involved in an unusual way. Normally Murdoch would have been annoyed with her for giving away the tricks of the trade but in this particular instance he was exceedingly grateful. Dr. Grace had saved him the trouble of tracking Garland down in his beleaguered state. Julia was safe. Everything was as it should be.

A profound sense of contentment washed over him and given how little sleep he had gotten in the past three days, he immediately dozed off.

* * *

Wanting to learn the reason for the miners shameful neglect, she had stuck around in Hertfordshire while enquiries were made by the constabulary. Many hours later they had finally gotten down to the bottom of it by unearthing Mr. Stapleton's ex-right hand man, Mr. Daniels, a local to the area. According to this man, Stapleton had no claim to the land and consequently had been illegally mining the area. This was why the entrance had been so inaccessible, to keep it hidden. He had even gone so far as to start the rumour that the cabin nearby was haunted, as a means to keep people out of the area. When the cave in occurred, it was only a short while before a government man was scheduled to come in for a thorough inspection of the land. Not wanting to get caught, Stapleton had simply left the miners down there, and threatened to deport any of the others if they spoke up. The consensus was quite clear. He was a despicable human being. Now all they had to do was locate him and justice could begin to be served.

* * *

About nine thirty in the evening, the doctors arrived back in downtown Toronto, exhausted from the previous nights events and succeeding long day but otherwise fine. Julia saw Emily home safely and then continued on in the carriage to her own abode. When she stepped out, it was like deja vu to the night she found out Darcy had been murdered. William was sitting in the same chair and in the same anxious attitude. Then she remembered he shouldn't be here at all and found herself frozen to the spot, casting nervous glances all around.

She half thought of hopping back into the carriage and driving off but when their eyes met, the impulse passed. The darkness couldn't conceal the pure joy there. Julia gave him a cautious smile as he rapidly advanced on her position. Before she could question him in any way he had embraced her with a sizzling kiss that made her melt into a puddle like the wicked witch of Oz.

"William!" she gasped when they parted. "What-"

"It's over!" he exclaimed giddily. "The threat has passed!"

"Truly?" she grinned. "You have apprehended James Gillies already?"

"No," he murmured, crashing his lips against hers anew.

"You've killed him then?" she whispered breathily as he continued to attack her mouth.

"It wasn't Gillies at all," he said, stroking her backside and stopping just above her derriere, sending shivers up her spine, making it even harder to focus. "It was Garland."

It took all of her strength to pull back slightly, pressing against his chest hard as she did so. He let go immediately, wincing and clutching that area.

"William, what is the matter?" she asked, clasping his hand. "And what do you mean it was _Leslie_?"

Whatever was causing his discomfort seemed to have sobered him up and he led her to the chairs he had initially come from.

"After examining all of the evidence, I came to the conclusion that Gillies was not responsible. Logic dictated that it must be Garland. Further investigation proved my suspicions were correct."

"But why would he do such a thing?" she pondered aloud.

He observed her closely. "I think you already know the answer to that."

She sighed. "I admit I was surprised when he showed up here. I had thought that he hated me. But he was so accommodating and gentlemanly that I completely overlooked what was right in front of my face. I feel so foolish!" She buried her face in her hands.

William squeezed the hand that he had yet to release. "Don't be so hard on yourself. He fooled everyone. Something he won't be doing ever again."

Julia glanced up. "William, you didn't-"

"No, Julia," he said with a slight twitch around the corners of his lips, "I didn't kill him, either. But the death threats and attempted murder will see him locked up for a good many years."

"I don't know, William, he will surely have a platoon of highly skilled lawyers at his disposal. He might only be in jail for a year or two."

"Julia, Garland is no Gillies. Whenever he does get out, he won't be bothering us again. Not after the inspector has a lengthy...conversation with him. I believe he will be quite sorted out then."

There was silence for a time. She gingerly placed her free hand to his chest and gave him an enquiring glance.

"A parting gift."

Her tired brain just clued in to something he had said earlier. "He shot you?!" she exclaimed, outraged. "He actually shot you?!"

"I'll be fine. I was wearing my bullet proof vest. I'm just a bit sore, that's all."

"Let me see!" she commanded in her most authoritarian voice, tugging at his shirt.

He grabbed her wrist. "Julia, it's nothing to be concerned over."

"Confound it, William! I am a doctor and you will let me examine you!"

"Julia, please calm yourself."

Sour faced she did as she was bade and released her death grip on his shirt.

"Now, then, why don't we talk about something more pleasant?" His normally breathtaking smile had no effect on her. "You can tell me all about your girls night out."

Crossing her arms, "It was most certainly _not_ pleasant and I refuse to do anything like that again in my life!"

William looked taken aback and confused.

"Oh, I'm sorry, William," she said, features softening. "I'm just very tired and would like to get some rest now."

He seemed a bit upset. "All right then. We will speak tomorrow...if you are up for it."

There was that sense of deja vu again. This parting was reminding her of when she was acquitted of all charges. She had wanted to take it all back then but by the time she had looked for him he was already out of sight.

Julia stood up and held out her hand.

"Julia?"

"After every thing we've been through these past few years, it would be absurd for us to catch our deaths from something as commonplace as inclement weather." There was barely a chill. "Therefore, if you really want to continue this...conversation, we should do so inside, where there are...blankets...and dominoes."

William smiled as before and this time his charms started a fluttering sensation. "Very wise, doctor, very wise indeed."

He took her hand.

* * *

**Well that's it for me! As always, hope you enjoyed the ride! Ta-ta for now! And Happy Valentine's Day!  
**

**P.S. Sorry there was no proposal. Just didn't seem like the right time and I also didn't want to rush it. I think we deserve a whole freaking episode devoted to it after how long we've waited! ;D**


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